" Perry Rhodan 0086 - (78) Power Key" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Rhodan)

Perry Rhodan 086 Power Key #78 1/ ATLAN HEADS HOME THE ALIEN was tall, slim
and well developed. The reddish brown skin of his thin face indicated that he
was a Zalite: a descendant of those Arkonides who many thousands of years ago
emigrated to the planetary system of the red star Voga, only 3.14 light-years
from Arkon, and settled on the fourth planet. As time passed, the skin and
hair colour of the Zalites had changed but they had nonetheless remained
purebred Arkonides. "Breheb-Toor...!" called the tall man with a penetrating,
commanding voice. 200 colonial Arkonides, Zalites like the officer up front,
seemed to have become electrified. The turning of so many bodies was so exact
and precise that it seemed to be the result of electronic steering with the
most sophisticated automatic equipment. The commanding officer turned.
Stiffly and with short steps, he came towards me. On the breast of his
blue-grey uniform shone the emblem of the Great Imperium: three planets
circling a shining star. The dark face was half-covered by the broad
equatorial rim of the regulation service communications helmet he wore. I saw
only the grey eyes, the narrow nose and the firm mouth. He stopped exactly
three steps away from me. His report followed, given in pure Arkonese,
although the light Zalitish accent was not to be overlooked. During the
report he held his balled right fist pressed against the left chest where it
joined the shoulder. There was nothing to be seen that would have betrayed to
an observer that this space officer was in reality a Terran. No one-not even
the 50 genuine Zalites within the ranks of our commando team-could conclude
that the First Officer of the brand new Arkonide battleship Kon-Velete, and
Perry Rhodan, First Administrator of the Solar Imperium, were one and the
same. Those individuals aware of the situation were also well aware of the
necessity to hold their tongues about it. In accordance with the ancient
custom, I also pressed my right hand against my left chest and thanked the
officer. Behind the men lined up in their ranks, the huge spherical body of
the 800-meter spacer Kon-Velete rose high into the sparsely cloud-flecked sky
of Naator. The sole satellite of the fifth world of the Arkon System, it had
been selected to temporarily serve as the site for the tactical education of
space crews recruited by the Robot Regent. Rhodan's stiff bearing, assumed in
deference to protocol, relaxed. He threw me another warning glance before
returning to formation with those ridiculously short steps. He conformed in
every detail to Zalitish regulations. I pulled my cape tighter over my chest.
An icy wind blew over the wide plain, whose former aspect-that of a rocky
desert-had been starkly altered by the laying of a meter-thick layer of
steel-plastic. The thus-created spaceport bore the name NA-4. Just 24 hours
(standard time) before, I had received the order to move the Kon-Velete onto
this field. With that we knew that takeoff could not be very far away. I
turned around and saluted to the two thoroughly frozen Arkonide officers. They
sat in an open impact-field glider and were busy inspecting the lined-up crews
of the many spaceships. In my capacity as commander of the new battleship, I
beamed the all-ready signal by way of the sender built into my helmet. The
older man raised his hand in salute. He was Admiral Semekho. Thin and seeming
very fragile and weak, he sat next to the robot driver. Yet he belonged to the
small number of Arkonides who still had enough energy and initiative to serve
as commanding officer of a forward fleet base. "I wish you much luck, Capt.
Ighur," he said, his voice coming from the speakers in my helmet. "You will
carry the glory that is Arkon into the depths of space. You are to take off